Two weekends ago I took a quick trip up to Maehongson, the province I grew up in in North Thailand, right next to the Burma border. It was mainly a scouting trip for when Andrea and I go spend ten days there in June. We didn’t want to just show up and hope former neighbors and friends would take us in for a week! I stayed two nights in the village of Napajat (Fish Fields) which was the last village my parents lived in before they returned to the US and also a night in Pa Tyng where we lived for about eight years before my parents moved to Napajat. Here are some musings from my brief time back in Shan land. (The people we lived with are called the Shan or Thai Yai.)
7AM Friday morning.
The sky is cloudy and overcast bringing blessed relief from the heat. It’s a cool 80 degrees. Breakfast consists of rice, fried fish, freshly caught from the river that runs through the valley where Napajat (Fish Fields) is located and a stew/stirfry of forest greens. As we eat the neighbor who caught the fish shows up. Another neighbor drops off a bottle of honey recently gathered out of the forest. So many things are provided for this family that aims to live very differently than many of their peers and neighbors. (Pii Lee is the shepherd and acknowledged leader of the little church which is flourishing. Pii Toi, his wife, is the dynamic innovator. Together they allow each other to lead with their strengths, supporting each other when they need to, stepping back when that is needed. Neither want fancy titles like ‘Teacher’ or ‘Pastor. Both say there is only one teacher and everyone else is level on the playing field).
Throughout the kitchen (and the whole house actually) as we eat, I see traces and reminders of my former life here – a knife holder I made for my parents in elementary or middle school, our old screen cupboard, maybe an old kettle of ours, now blackened with use. (Photo to the left, Lee, Toi and their daughter Honey. Pii Toi loves to do something silly whenever a picture is taken!)
Outside the fruit trees close in around their house. Lychees are just coming into season, cascading and tumbling down the branches. Peak mango season is still a few weeks away. Ten to twelve pound jackfruit are hanging high up in the trees. The fish pond teems with fish. Chickens scratch around. Creepers and vines run tangled up the trees. The real rainy season hasn’t arrived yet but there have been a few rains to bring new growth to some trees including the mighty teak trees whose young leaves will soon span a foot and a half. The undergrowth isn’t yet the jungle that it will be in a couple months. When someone mentions Shangri la, I think of this valley that Napajat is in. The scenery from the road into the village is one of the most picturesque and pastoral anywhere!
Out on the porch, neighbors talk. A young twenty five year old mother whose baby died of AIDS in the night sits impervious and seemingly unaffected by her loss or by the future that she faces as she lives with this disease as well. Did she become HIV+ from her “work” in Chiang Mai? Maybe. Pii Toi has a dynamic but very down to earth ministry working with those who are HIV/AIDS affected. She doesn’t want a house to care for those who are dying. She wants to train and empower volunteers and family members to care for their own. This way she and other volunteers are able to have greater access to other family members as she is invited into their homes to share good news and truth in spite of the circumstances the family is in.
Pii Toi is one of the most perceptive and honest people I have ever met. My Thai still leaves a lot to be desired but she is able to intuitively know what I am talking about all the time.
Friday 9PM
My reality…My world is so big. My world is so small.
My reality is this... I have never been to a huge family reunion that you read about or see portrayed in movies. My family isn’t that big. But returning to the village of Pa Tyng where my parents lived for eight years and where I spent significant amount of time growing up from eighth grade well into my college years feels like a huge family reunion.
My reality is this....I have a great picture of a skinny white boy surrounded by a gaggle of wizened village grandmothers. When I walked into the temple grounds with one of my friends several of them leaped to their feet, eyes alive, mouths, many with missing teeth opened in huge smiles. These are some of the old generation that I grew up with. So many stories to share. Ladies whose gardens and fields I visited, whose buffalo I helped bring in from the fields and forests every evening.
My reality is this... I have a 20 year old ‘little brother’ whom I last saw for an hour or so ago eight or nine years ago when Andrea and I shared a meal with his parents and him when he was twelve. Prior to that who knows how old he was when I last saw him. Gop didn’t really register on my radar and I’m sure I didn’t register on his. But today when I knocked on his parent’s door, and after the briefest of moments of not recognizing me, he has been by my side (along with his sweet girlfriend of five years) taking me places on the back of his motorcycle, making sure I am well fed and being a very gracious host. He is gentle and has a good heart. He wants to be a PE teacher. Like many of my friends scattered around the world – super athletic and super into sports of all kinds. (Photo below- Gop, his girlfriend and a neighbor visiting over some Shan tea.)
So here’s this kid who barely knows me yet treats me like an older brother. His parents are somehow uncle and aunt to me. Again, ones with whom I have plowed the fields, drank much salty Shan tea when younger and probably provided much amusement for. Tonight I am in their bed which they vacated for me despite my protests.
My family’s former landlady Metow Moon (Gop’s grandmother) died in October. Her house was the first house I went to today in the village. It was all shut up and I knew right away. The man renting the house next door which we used to live in confirmed the news for me. I had to fight back the tears, for this sweet woman who you couldn’t outgive. Many who read this blog knew my Great Aunt Mary who died a year and a half ago. Today I grieve another sainted aunt and am so grateful for the years we had together.
Tomorrow is the Rocket Festival. Gop and I saw different men creating some of the rockets that will be entered into the competition tomorrow. Apparently there are some guys who think it is a good idea to make home made rockets - stuffing gunpowder and who knows what else into a four foot plastic tube - while a little (or a lot) tipsy.
It’s a different world today than twenty, even ten years ago. Everyone, even here in a remote village has a cell phone. Gop has cable in his house. There’s a satellite dish in the back. Solar panels are attached to some of the thatched roofs in the village. Rockets have become a little more high tech also. While they used to be made with a with a 3-4 foot hollowed out bamboo pole about 4-5 inches across packed with some sort of explosive, too many blew up upon ignition, so now they have graduated to plastic pipes of the same dimension, which are attached to a 30-60 foot bamboo pole and then fired high into the sky. (Photo to the left. Rocket being carried to launch site. If you look close you can see the man on the left in the black shirt is carrying the fuse which will be placed into the center of the rocket right before they light it. More pictures coming in a future post!)
The Rocket Festival originally had some religious meaning (and maybe for a few it still does), asking the gods/spirits to bring abundant rain for abundant harvests, now it’s much more about the competition to see whose will go they highest/farthest. And they really do go far. Three years ago when Andrea and I led an Act Six Team here to Thailand, we were flying down from Chiang Rai to Bangkok, when shortly after takeoff we looked out the window and saw a rocket trail outside the window. Assuming that we weren’t fired on by a real rocket, the only explanation is that one of these bamboo rockets had made it some distance in the air right before we passed!
Sunday Afternoon
I didn’t realize how much I missed the hills of Maehongson and North Thailand. Bangkok is just two short flights away this evening but a world apart in so many ways. My head is spinning, my heart is full. My head spins from a million conversations, kids I grew up with now have kids of their own. My heart is full - so good to be back. Tomorrow I might be a bit of a mess when our Thai tutor shows up. I’ve been learning Thai solidly for three months now but was surprised at how much Shan tumbled out from somewhere in the back of my brain. Though similar, there are many differences and I expect many ‘wrong’ words to come out tomorrow. Family reunions can wear you out. Last night I went to bed at 8:30 and didn’t get up until 8 this morning! Longest sleep I have had in…a long time. So looking forward to coming back next month.
Duncan
7AM Friday morning.
The sky is cloudy and overcast bringing blessed relief from the heat. It’s a cool 80 degrees. Breakfast consists of rice, fried fish, freshly caught from the river that runs through the valley where Napajat (Fish Fields) is located and a stew/stirfry of forest greens. As we eat the neighbor who caught the fish shows up. Another neighbor drops off a bottle of honey recently gathered out of the forest. So many things are provided for this family that aims to live very differently than many of their peers and neighbors. (Pii Lee is the shepherd and acknowledged leader of the little church which is flourishing. Pii Toi, his wife, is the dynamic innovator. Together they allow each other to lead with their strengths, supporting each other when they need to, stepping back when that is needed. Neither want fancy titles like ‘Teacher’ or ‘Pastor. Both say there is only one teacher and everyone else is level on the playing field).
Throughout the kitchen (and the whole house actually) as we eat, I see traces and reminders of my former life here – a knife holder I made for my parents in elementary or middle school, our old screen cupboard, maybe an old kettle of ours, now blackened with use. (Photo to the left, Lee, Toi and their daughter Honey. Pii Toi loves to do something silly whenever a picture is taken!)
Outside the fruit trees close in around their house. Lychees are just coming into season, cascading and tumbling down the branches. Peak mango season is still a few weeks away. Ten to twelve pound jackfruit are hanging high up in the trees. The fish pond teems with fish. Chickens scratch around. Creepers and vines run tangled up the trees. The real rainy season hasn’t arrived yet but there have been a few rains to bring new growth to some trees including the mighty teak trees whose young leaves will soon span a foot and a half. The undergrowth isn’t yet the jungle that it will be in a couple months. When someone mentions Shangri la, I think of this valley that Napajat is in. The scenery from the road into the village is one of the most picturesque and pastoral anywhere!
Out on the porch, neighbors talk. A young twenty five year old mother whose baby died of AIDS in the night sits impervious and seemingly unaffected by her loss or by the future that she faces as she lives with this disease as well. Did she become HIV+ from her “work” in Chiang Mai? Maybe. Pii Toi has a dynamic but very down to earth ministry working with those who are HIV/AIDS affected. She doesn’t want a house to care for those who are dying. She wants to train and empower volunteers and family members to care for their own. This way she and other volunteers are able to have greater access to other family members as she is invited into their homes to share good news and truth in spite of the circumstances the family is in.
Pii Toi is one of the most perceptive and honest people I have ever met. My Thai still leaves a lot to be desired but she is able to intuitively know what I am talking about all the time.
Friday 9PM
My reality…My world is so big. My world is so small.
My reality is this... I have never been to a huge family reunion that you read about or see portrayed in movies. My family isn’t that big. But returning to the village of Pa Tyng where my parents lived for eight years and where I spent significant amount of time growing up from eighth grade well into my college years feels like a huge family reunion.
My reality is this....I have a great picture of a skinny white boy surrounded by a gaggle of wizened village grandmothers. When I walked into the temple grounds with one of my friends several of them leaped to their feet, eyes alive, mouths, many with missing teeth opened in huge smiles. These are some of the old generation that I grew up with. So many stories to share. Ladies whose gardens and fields I visited, whose buffalo I helped bring in from the fields and forests every evening.My reality is this... I have a 20 year old ‘little brother’ whom I last saw for an hour or so ago eight or nine years ago when Andrea and I shared a meal with his parents and him when he was twelve. Prior to that who knows how old he was when I last saw him. Gop didn’t really register on my radar and I’m sure I didn’t register on his. But today when I knocked on his parent’s door, and after the briefest of moments of not recognizing me, he has been by my side (along with his sweet girlfriend of five years) taking me places on the back of his motorcycle, making sure I am well fed and being a very gracious host. He is gentle and has a good heart. He wants to be a PE teacher. Like many of my friends scattered around the world – super athletic and super into sports of all kinds. (Photo below- Gop, his girlfriend and a neighbor visiting over some Shan tea.)
So here’s this kid who barely knows me yet treats me like an older brother. His parents are somehow uncle and aunt to me. Again, ones with whom I have plowed the fields, drank much salty Shan tea when younger and probably provided much amusement for. Tonight I am in their bed which they vacated for me despite my protests.
My family’s former landlady Metow Moon (Gop’s grandmother) died in October. Her house was the first house I went to today in the village. It was all shut up and I knew right away. The man renting the house next door which we used to live in confirmed the news for me. I had to fight back the tears, for this sweet woman who you couldn’t outgive. Many who read this blog knew my Great Aunt Mary who died a year and a half ago. Today I grieve another sainted aunt and am so grateful for the years we had together.
Tomorrow is the Rocket Festival. Gop and I saw different men creating some of the rockets that will be entered into the competition tomorrow. Apparently there are some guys who think it is a good idea to make home made rockets - stuffing gunpowder and who knows what else into a four foot plastic tube - while a little (or a lot) tipsy.
It’s a different world today than twenty, even ten years ago. Everyone, even here in a remote village has a cell phone. Gop has cable in his house. There’s a satellite dish in the back. Solar panels are attached to some of the thatched roofs in the village. Rockets have become a little more high tech also. While they used to be made with a with a 3-4 foot hollowed out bamboo pole about 4-5 inches across packed with some sort of explosive, too many blew up upon ignition, so now they have graduated to plastic pipes of the same dimension, which are attached to a 30-60 foot bamboo pole and then fired high into the sky. (Photo to the left. Rocket being carried to launch site. If you look close you can see the man on the left in the black shirt is carrying the fuse which will be placed into the center of the rocket right before they light it. More pictures coming in a future post!)The Rocket Festival originally had some religious meaning (and maybe for a few it still does), asking the gods/spirits to bring abundant rain for abundant harvests, now it’s much more about the competition to see whose will go they highest/farthest. And they really do go far. Three years ago when Andrea and I led an Act Six Team here to Thailand, we were flying down from Chiang Rai to Bangkok, when shortly after takeoff we looked out the window and saw a rocket trail outside the window. Assuming that we weren’t fired on by a real rocket, the only explanation is that one of these bamboo rockets had made it some distance in the air right before we passed!
Sunday Afternoon
I didn’t realize how much I missed the hills of Maehongson and North Thailand. Bangkok is just two short flights away this evening but a world apart in so many ways. My head is spinning, my heart is full. My head spins from a million conversations, kids I grew up with now have kids of their own. My heart is full - so good to be back. Tomorrow I might be a bit of a mess when our Thai tutor shows up. I’ve been learning Thai solidly for three months now but was surprised at how much Shan tumbled out from somewhere in the back of my brain. Though similar, there are many differences and I expect many ‘wrong’ words to come out tomorrow. Family reunions can wear you out. Last night I went to bed at 8:30 and didn’t get up until 8 this morning! Longest sleep I have had in…a long time. So looking forward to coming back next month.
Duncan
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